Tristan by Jesse Roman

Author:Jesse Roman [Roman, Jesse]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cory Roman Natuik
Published: 2024-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

34

January 1920

Dennis eagerly waited for ten o’clock to arrive. He shifted his paperwork around his desk, glancing up at the clock every few minutes. His office was small, cramped and provided little breathing room for tense moments such as these. Oftentimes, he’d have to step out into the reception area, or would leave the building through the side door in his office to take the air. The constant humming from the sewing machines and machinery in the other rooms was a welcome comfort, but being as late as it was, nearly all the staff had gone home. He was left with his own thoughts, the ticking on the clock the last frontier before complete maddening silence. Dennis arose from his desk chair and paced the tight quarters, the floorboards beneath the Afghan rug creaking under his loafers. He removed his tie and poured himself another glass of bourbon, having earned the right to be moderately drunk this Friday evening.

The door to the work room next to his office opened, and John, the last cloth butcher to leave, walked out wearing his winter coat.

“It feels like the coldest January we’ve had in twenty years,” said John, walking past Dennis and towards the office exit. When he opened the door, he stood and looked back curiously at Dennis as cold air rushed into the office through the alcove. “Are you alright, Dennis? You appear worried. Would you like some company?”

Dennis reached for a new cigarette on his desk. “There’s always something to worry about when you’re the boss,” he said, lighting up. “If there isn’t, you don’t have a business. Goodnight, John. I’ll see you on Monday. Say hello to Katherine for me, will you?” He picked up the bottle of bourbon he had been pouring for himself and handed it to him. “It’s better if you have it.”

John took the bottle and slid it underneath his coat. “Have a good rest of your night,” he said. When the door shut upon his exit, Dennis drummed his fingertips on the seams of his trousers, placing his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray. He stood in front of the large oak shelving unit next to the side entrance. Business strategies and fashion were the most common subjects found in the books on the shelves, in and around stacks of folders, empty tobacco tins and souvenirs that he had received from business associates, his wife and their two children, Lucy and Darla. The long middle shelf was reserved exclusively for bottles of bourbon and crystal glassware. He removed one of the unopened bottles and pulled the cork, refilling his glass halfway. This was the last of his own personal stock, and given the law that had passed last week prohibiting the sale of all alcohol, Dennis would have to start getting creative as to how to attain more of it. He refused to remain sober for the rest of his life. But his recent discovery earlier in the week, in this very room, had Dennis bouncing around with excitement.

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